"A maid whom there were none to praise,
And very few to love." WORDSWORTH.

Marjory was lying under a tree in the wood beyond her uncle's garden;
her head was hidden in the long, soft coat of a black retriever, and she
was crying sobbing bitterly as if her heart would break, and as if
nothing could ever comfort her again.

"O Silky," she moaned, "if you only knew, you would be so sorry for me."

The faithful dog knew that something very serious was the matter with
his young mistress, but he could only lick her hands and wag his tail as
well as he was able with her weight upon his body.

A fresh burst of grief shook the girl; and Silky, puzzled by this
unusual behaviour on Marjory's part, began to make little low whines
himself. Suddenly the whines were changed to growls, the dog shook
himself free from the girl's clasping arms and stood erect, staring into
the wood beyond.

Marjory was too much overcome by her grief to notice Silky's doings, and
it was not until she heard a voice quite close to her saying, "You poor
little thing, what is the matter?" that she realized that she was not
alone.

She looked up, startled, wondering who this stranger could be making
free of her uncle's woods. She saw a lady, tall and fair, looking kindly
at her, and a girl who might have stepped out of a picture, so sweet and
fresh and pretty she looked in her white frock and shady hat.

For one minute Marjory gazed at her in admiration, and then, conscious
of her tear stained face and tumbled dress, let her head droop again and
sobbed afresh.

The lady spoke again: "My dear child, what is wrong?"

"Nothing," sobbed Marjory "nothing that I can tell you."

She felt ashamed of being seen in such a plight, and had an instinctive
dislike of showing her feelings to a stranger, for Marjory was an
extremely shy girl.

"But, my dear," remonstrated the lady, "I cannot leave you like this;
besides," with a smile most winning, if only Marjory could have seen it,
"I believe you are trespassing upon our newly acquired property."

Marjory raised her head at this, and said quickly, and perhaps just a
little proudly,

"Oh no, I'm not; this is my uncle's ground."

"Oh dear; then Blanche and I are the trespassers, though quite innocent
ones. And you must be Marjory Davidson, I think Dr... Continue reading book >>